


Riturangini

by CarminaVulcana



Series: Tumblr Prompts - Round 1 [3]
Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarminaVulcana/pseuds/CarminaVulcana
Summary: Prompt: Sivagami, Amarendra’s mother, alcoveThe seasons as Sivagami's life-- mistakes, regrets, and salvation.





	Riturangini

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllegoriesInMediasRes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/gifts).



Rukmini had always believed herself to be a cold, iron-hearted woman. Growing up as the only daughter in a household that prized sons, she had taught herself to think like a man, hunt like a man, and even feel like a man.

And that is why she quietly agreed to marry the elder prince of Mahishmati—a crippled man with a mind as crooked as his handicapped right arm.

Sivagami. The one whose karma was sanctified by Lord Shiva. That was the name given to her upon marriage. Sivagami. The mark of everything she would give up in order to be a dutiful daughter and daughter-in-law. Sivagami. Sati by another name.

The symbolism was not lost on her.

The first year of her marriage was awkward. Bijjaladeva tried to romance her. He brought her expensive pieces of hand-crafted jewelry, flowers, and perfumes. But his gifts, no matter how exquisite, always felt cheap and worthless.

Maybe it was because he treated her like a commoner, a nobody, and an unequal who should be grateful for her marriage to a prince.

He was so mistaken.

Sivagami quickly became a favorite of the royal household. Her presence of mind, dedication to duty, and quick wit endeared her to almost all the officials and ministers. She was immensely loved by her ailing mother-in-law. And it was she who held her hand when she finally passed away due to her illness.

In the months following Maharani Anandini Devi’s death, she even found a kindred spirit in her brother-in-law, Vikramadeva.

Much to her husband’s chagrin, she supported his coronation and even agreed to take on the mantle of Queen Mother temporarily because Vikrama was not yet married. This drove a permanent wedge between her and Bijjala. But she had no regrets. When she had married into the Sarvasteera dynasty of Mahishmati, she had taken an oath of loyalty to the kingdom.

And her oath required her to only do what was good for the country. Everything else was secondary, including her _stree_ dharma.

Her next task was to find a bride for the new king. She had sent emissaries to a number of kingdoms but so far, none of the matches had pleased her.

However, Vikrama seemed to be interested in Princess Arunima, the younger daughter of the Chalukya dynasty of the western Deccan. Apparently, he had been in correspondence with her since his coronation and as far as anyone could tell, he was in love. He was even writing poetry for her!

Since Sivagami did not really understand or care for romance, the idea of a mighty king writing fluffy poetry for a foreign princess was too much for her. But then again, if she were married to a husband she actually liked, her thoughts might have been quite different.

So far, no official matchmaking efforts had been made to ask for Princess Arunima’s hand in marriage. She needed to talk to Vikrama soon and fix a date for the wedding. If he and the princess were indeed in love, then everything else including the ceremony would be nothing but formality.

And in Sivagami’s book, it was best to get rid of formalities as soon as possible.

**Basanta**

The wedding ceremony was breathtaking. With Savigami’s blessings, no expense was spared. Crystal chandeliers from Rome, silk draperies from china, flowers from the kingdom of Kashmir, and hundreds of elephants, horses, and even camels were brought in. A mahayajna was performed by 10,000 brahmins. Hundreds of thousands of ordinary people were given gifts of gold and silver. All the neighboring kings and queens were also invited to the royal wedding.

For months, Mahishmati talked of nothing else.

_“Did you see the roses?”_

_“Oh! the sweets. They just melted in my mouth.”_

_“The new queen’s saari was woven by 300 weavers and 52 embroiderers over a period of six weeks day and night.”_

_“The king writes poetry for her!”_

_“The Rajmata ordered the camels from Ajmer. Their king, Someshwar Chauhan even sent a camel carved out of ivory.”_

As for the new queen, Princess Arunima chose to take on a new name upon marriage. Mekhala. The slope of a mountain.

 It was a strange name, but she did not share her reasons for choosing this name with anyone; except for Sivagami. On the eve of her welcoming ceremony, she took her sister-in-law aside in an alcove and told her why she wanted to be known as Mekhala.

“Akka, it feels like climbing a steep mountain where the summit is still a lifetime away. My name will remind me to never slacken in my _rajadharma_.”

And Sivagami understood.

**Grishma**

Maharani Mekhala was pregnant. The Rajmata was in her last trimester.

Sivagami smiled to herself. She was almost certain she was going to have a son. She hoped Mekhala would have a son as well. The two princes would fill the palace with laughter and joy.

She was worried about her husband though. He seemed even worse than usual. He constantly drank and spewed venom against his brother. She hoped his bitterness wouldn’t touch the queen and her unborn child.

One morning, Mekhala did not show up for the first session of the ministerial council. When she did come in a few hours later, she chose to sit on one of the easy chairs in the alcove behind the throne instead of her usual place beside the king. Her seat remained glaringly empty.

Sivagami waited for the meeting to conclude. She didn’t have any right to say anything to the queen, but this behavior was improper. Vikramadeva looked at her several times during the session but whatever he wanted to say to her would have to wait.

At long last, the meeting ended and Sivagami was able to go and talk to Mekhala.

But instead of her usual stern self, she tried a different approach.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. And she truly was concerned. Mekhala’s eyes were red and swollen. Her face was pale. And she looked small, even vulnerable.

“I need to talk to you,” she whispered.

Sivagami sat down beside her. Something told her that this would be a long conversation.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“I… I don’t have a mother. She passed away when I was 11. I have been dreaming of her lately. In my culture, it is considered inauspicious for a pregnant woman to dream of dead relatives. Every night, I see her, but she never says anything. She just looks at me pityingly. I am worried that something will happen to my baby.”

Sivagami had almost no experience with these premonitions and the so-called “women’s intuition.” As far as she was concerned, it was all superstition that had absolutely no place in the mind of a queen. But she also understood that an expecting mother was more sensitive to these things. She would have to handle this with a lot of care and tact.

“Mekha,” she began gently. “I don’t know what I can say to you but if your child is destined to live, he will live. And he will be good, wise, and strong because your immense love for him will keep him safe through all the trials he must face in life. Through it all, he will be Amarendra, the invincible one.”

“And if I am not there?”

“Hush! Don’t say such inauspicious things…”

“Will you love him as your own if something happens to me?”

“Come on, there will be no…”

“Promise me.”

There was such intensity in Mekhala’s eyes that Sivagami was unable to say no.

“I promise. I will love him as my own if something indeed happens to you.”

**Varsha**

Sivagami would have liked a few more days of peace and quiet after the birth of her son. But like many other things else in her life, she couldn’t have it.

The king was dead. Taken from them too soon and in too sudden a manner.

Mysterious illness, they called it.

But she knew what had happened even if she had no way to prove it.

Vikrama had been murdered. Possibly, by his own elder brother.

As she signed stacks upon stacks of responses to condolence messages, her bones felt the heat of his funeral pyre which was still burning on the banks of Jeevanadhi. She knew hundreds of people were still there. And she would have stayed till the end too.

However, in the absence of all other authority, she had had no choice but to come back to the palace and take charge of the affairs. Her husband’s ill-disguised glee made her gorge rise. His utterly fake expressions of grief made her sick to her stomach.

And Mekhala…. She was inconsolable.

She had not eaten anything for the last 24 hours. She had not shed a single tear. It was obvious she was in shock.

Sivagami sighed. She put her quill down and turned to look at the image of Lord Krishna enshrined next to her work desk.

“My Lord,” she prayed. “I do not know what to do. If my husband has committed murder, do I bring further instability upon the kingdom by holding a trial against him? Or do I do my duty as the Rajmata and look to the future? On the one hand, I must ensure Mekhala’s security. On the other, there are vultures simply waiting to pounce upon the throne of Mahishmati? Or do I simply let myself be led by the tide of the circumstances, protecting those I can and apologizing to those I cannot?”

Her answer came to her in the form of a summons from the queen.

_“Please meet me in the alcove behind the throne.”_

It was a strange place to meet but Sivagami asked no questions.

Mekhala was waiting for her.

“Mekha…” Sivagami acknowledged with a small, sympathetic smile. She would have pulled the younger woman into an embrace, but Mekhala was six months into her pregnancy. Her belly was already an impressive size. A hug was not exactly… practical!

“I have something to give you,” the queen said. She held a velveteen case in her hands. Inside was a signet ring.

“This is my husband’s ring. I brought it with me as a wedding present for him. But I am afraid that soon, neither I nor anything I own will remain in the palace. I want you to keep this safe. If my son lives, give this to him when his child is born. If he does not live, burn it with him on his pyre.”

“Why are you talking like this? What…?”

“Bijjaladeva killed my husband. I worry that he will kill me and my son too. And yet, there is nothing we can do.”

“How are you so certain that it was Bijjaladeva?” Sivagami’s heartbeat raced in trepidation. What if? What if Mekhala had proof of Bijjala’s crime?

“I am not certain,” she answered. “And that is why there is nothing to be done. If I try to serve justice, we both know how it will end. It is the fate of women in our world to be strong but never strong enough. And that is why, my last hope lies with you.”

Despite her growing unease, Sivagami could not stop herself from getting sucked into her sister-in-law’s weird request.

“But… why do you want me to give this ring to your son when _he_ has a son?” She asked. “What does it have to do with Bijjaladeva?”

Mekhala looked away.

“… Because, it will mean that my husband’s name lives. That Bijjaladeva did not succeed.”

**Sharada**

The queen was dead too.

Sivagami held two infants in her arms. The child of her blood and the child of her heart.

_I promise. I will love him as my own if something indeed happens to you._

The words of her promise rang in her head. Martand’s tainted blood still glistened on her brow. The weight of Mekhala’s death sat on her shoulders as she relived every conversation she had ever had with her.

“Amarendra. Amarendra Baahubali.” She cooed at the baby swaddled in green. His surprisingly strong grip had taken her by surprise. But in that moment, she had known that somehow, everything would be okay.

As the years passed, she almost forgot that Baahu was Mekha’s son and not her own. She loved him with everything she had. In fact, she sometimes worried that she loved him even more than she loved Bhalla.

It didn’t help that generally, Baahu was a much more thoughtful and caring child than his older brother. Of course, he was naughty as well. The mango trees in the gardens became targets of his slingshot every spring—way before the fruit was ripe enough to pick.

It made her proud to see her children grow into brave, intelligent, and virtuous young men. She tried to shower equal attention upon the boys, but she was often so busy with other official matters that both Baahu and Bhalla sought out other grown-ups when she wasn’t available. While Baahu treated Katappa like a father-figure, Bhalla usually found refuge with Bijjala.

And even though this worried Sivagami, she was never able to say anything. She had no plausible reason to keep her son away from his father.

However, despite everything, her fears were never realized. Bhalla and Baahu were equally dutiful to her and to the kingdom. Their personalities were different, of course. But that was not a cause of concern. If anything, Baahu’s congeniality was complemented beautifully by Bhalla’s snark.

As the time to choose a king came closer, she grew confident that Mahishmati’s future would be in capable hands.

And as her sons defeated the Kalakeya in a crushing, decisive battle, she felt hope and relief and gladness.

A huge weight was lifted from her shoulders as she announced the name of the new king.

Amarendra. Invincible.

He would live. And he would do great things.

Soon, he would also give her (and Mekhala) a grandson.

Finally, she’d be able to give him his mother’s last gift.

For the next few weeks, she sent the Rajpurohit to a number of kingdoms for matchmaking. This activity was a bittersweet reminder of how the alliance of Vikrama and Arunima had come together.

Well, it didn’t look like Baahu would be bold like his father in that department.

It would be upon Sivagami to find a princess worthy of him.

**Hemanta**

Disobedience. Sivagami could forgive any other infraction but this.

And here she was, standing at perhaps the toughest juncture in her life.

Her son had brought home a bride. She should be joyous. And yet, it felt as if the ground was slipping from under her feet.

“The future can be yours. This palace, this kingdom, and this coveted throne. All yours. But you must make the choice? Or will you choose this manipulative Devasena?”

She knew the answer before he said anything.

“My sword must always defer to the cause of dharma, mother.”

Of course, he chose her.

And as she felt anger swell within her, she also felt the stirrings of guilt. She knew she was doing wrong by a dead woman. But she was only human.

There was no way she could let something like this go.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Bijjaladeva’s victorious smirk.

She could only hang her head in grief.

There was nothing else to do. Baahubali would not be coronated. And she would prove, unwillingly, that blood was indeed thicker than water.

For the next several months, her soul screamed at her to do something as Bhalla’s dictatorial ways manifested themselves in his cruel, unjust decisions. But her hands remained paralyzed by her word.

Soon after the coronation and swearing-in ceremony, Baahubali saved Bhalla’s life by jumping in front of a poisoned dart aimed at the king by an assassin.

She did not go to see him as he recuperated in his rooms. But she did get a report from the chief physician who assured her he’d be fine even though it had been a rather close call.

When the news of Devasena’s pregnancy reached her, she did not react.

A part of her was happy because finally, she would be able to fulfil Mekhala’s request. But another part of her did not know what to feel. Devasena made her blood feel like ice. That woman had singlehandedly destroyed everything Sivagami had rebuilt over the last 25 years.

The final blow came at the seemantham ceremony.

Baahu called her ‘maa.’ The endearment tugged at her heartstrings, but she kept an impassive face. She might have reconsidered forgiving him but that wife of his… moments later, she demanded that Amarendra Baahubali ascend the throne; by force, if necessary!

Sivagami hated Devasena with every fiber of her being and that is why, when push came to shove, she did not think twice before exiling her along with her husband. He had chosen her. He would share her fate. And so would his unborn child.

For the next two months, every night, Sivagami saw Mekhala in her dreams. She always saw her standing in the alcove, heavily pregnant, worn down by the death of her husband, and fearful of the doom that awaited her.

And she never said anything. She only looked at her with pitying eyes.

**Shishira**

“Baahubali’s blood.” Katappa’s voice was choked with accusation and scorn.

He smeared her hands with the red liquid from his own fingers and she heard the haunting lullaby of death.

Murderess. There were no other words for her.

In front of her eyes, everything crumbled and scattered like a house of cards.

And she saw her sister-in-law in Baahubali’s young widow as she clutched his child, his last memory, in her arms.

Sivagami would atone.

She would repent.

She would not break her promise to Mekhala for a second time.

.

.

.

.

.

**Basanta- Dwitiya**

Mahishmati has regained its harmony at last.

Their new queen mother, Rajmata Devasena has the wisdom of Sivagami devi but her sense of justice is tempered by patience and compassion. She does not take hasty decisions. And with her guidance, Maharaj Mahendra Baahubali has finally found his rhythm.

The people love him. He reminds them of Amarendra Baahubali. He reminds them of everything they lost under the reign of Bhallaladeva. But he also reminds them of the fact that the graces of the Gods remain upon them.

His marriage to Avanthika is celebrated with great pomp and splendor.

A few months later, they announce the news of her pregnancy.

It is a time of jubilation and festivities.

People often come to them bearing gifts. Sometimes, they come with questions.

But today, they have a visitor with a strange request-- a fisherman who has something that might belong to the royal family.

It is a ring. He found it in the stomach of a pulasa he caught the other day.

It is not unusual to find junk in the bodies of the fish. Thanks to all the litter in the rivers, they often swallow bits of metal and cloth. Fishermen throw these away and simply clean the fish as usual.

But a ring? That only ever happens in stories.

Mahendra looks at the ring closely. It is a rather large signet ring engraved with an elaborately carved motif of an elephant surrounded by the shield of Shiva and Shakti. A small ruby is embedded in the trunk of the elephant.

So far, he has no way of knowing who the ring belongs to.

He turns the ring over and therein lies the answer.

_‘The heart of the Chalukya princess is the King of Mahishmati.’_

XXXXX

At last.

Sivagami’s penance is over. Mekhala has forgiven her. And the Gods allow her to move on from purgatory.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I love comments and reviews :) Let me know what you think.


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